Brzezinski’s Final Solution

Zbigniew Brzezinski’s book Between Two Ages – America’s Role in the Technetronic Era has become something of a conspiracy theorist’s holy – or rather “unholy” – writ. Ironically, this came to pass precisely in the wake of the fulfilment of some of Zbig’s predictions that littered the margins of the first third of his book. Yes, he really does mention the possibility of weaponizing the weather, exercising mind control by psychotropic means, and the creation of a certain “global consciousness.” All of this he expresses in a curious, morally vague, manner: you really can’t pinpoint whether he exalts the possibility or warns the reader about it. However, if you think that this means that he is simply being scientifically neutral, you are dead wrong. Between Two Ages is not a scientific treatise, albeit it disguises itself as such. It is one of two things: either it is a philosophy of history or political pamphlet. The truth lies, it seems, somewhere in between.

“Conspiracy theorists” are picking on Brzezinski’s narrative for all the wrong reasons – the book is, admittedly, authored by global mover and shaker, but the essence of his insidiousness is not to be found in passing remarks about geoengineering or smart-grid projects plaguing our present and foreshadowing our future. Although it may all very well be true, conspiracy theorists fail to see just how much they in fact share Brzezinski’s outlook and method. To clarify: by conspiracy theorists, I don’t mean independent researchers of deep politics or analysts of the age of transition – incidentally, a recurring term throughout Between the Two Ages. This pejorative and derogatory label signifies people who believe that history is a planar surface which can be explained and made transparent by “connecting the dots” – where dots signify people, events and institutions. So, for instance, the mere eventuality that someone prominent was casually connected to some contingent fact, say: attended Columbia University at the time of Brzezinski’s tenure, and later became a prominent public figure, serves as proof of the dots sinisterly connecting.

A prime example of this is David Icke’s assertion that Roman Pope John Paul II was connected with Nazis because, we are informed, he was allegedly working for some subsidiary of I.G. Farben during the German occupation of Poland. Icke is not an entirely serious man, but he serves as an exemplar of “conspiracy theorists” and displays all the peculiarities of this outlook. Namely, he fails to recognize that young Wojtyla was in all probability a semi-slave laborer employed in the cause of building his mortal enemies’ war machine. It is hard to believe that it was a dream job for which he applied along with hundreds of volunteers, all Poles in love with the Nazi cause and the opportunities it presented. It was more likely that he just got lucky to slave away in a factory, rather than to hang out with his unemployed buddies around concentration camp cantina. “Conspiracy theorists” jump to such conclusions because they are eager to produce an absolute, all-pervading system of knowledge. And for this purpose they pick the worst approach imaginable: the science of history. It is here they mirror the methods of some of their designated bogeymen, including Zbigniew Brzezinski himself